


Willy and the Ink Machine

by alphatoothless



Category: Gravity Falls, Reverse Falls - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reverse Falls, Angst, BATIM!AU, Demon!Will, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 07:37:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15859170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphatoothless/pseuds/alphatoothless
Summary: His lips curl into a smile, and then a wide grin, before he’s laughing - a maniacal thrill coursing through his body as he feels the organ beat against his fingers.He’s finally done it.





	1. Soon you’ll see in black and white.

Black, goopy liquid drips from the walls, seeming to emphasize how alone he was. The darkness of the liquid - a void that surrounded him- no longer scared him, however. He reaches further inside a cracked rib cage, feeling for any movement. It remains still, forcing an angered hiss from his clenched teeth. 

He squeezes the soft organ again, his arm illuminating in the soft blue of his magic. He feels for the organ again, the black, inky flesh remaining lifeless despite his ministrations. He squeezes again, in a rhythm of a heartbeat, before he growls when it remains still. 

“No!” He yells, his voice echoing in the empty hallways. 

Another wave of magic pulses through his body and into the soft organ. Nothing responds. 

He hissed, releasing the organ from his grasp before stepping away. He’s covered in the black liquid, leaving his white dress shirt reminiscent to his younger days.

In far different circumstances. 

He looked back at the pentagram on the floor, the candlelights around him suddenly seeming far more hot than they had been moments before. He steps back from the ledge, rolling his sleeves up. Black liquid is smeared over his arms and hands in what seems like a permanent stain of his skin. 

He hears it then - movement.

He turns around to the sound of chains scraping against wood. He’s quick - jumping back into the ledge to feel inside. 

There’s a pulse. 

His lips curl into a smile, and then a wide grin, before he’s laughing - a maniacal thrill coursing through his body as he feels the organ beat against his fingers. 

He’s finally done it.


	2. Welcome home, dear friend.

Mabel took one step into the abandoned building, her nose scrunching slightly at the musty mixture of aged wood and dust. She heard the door close behind her once she’d stepped fully inside, glancing back with disinterest before she turned forward. Black, hoppy liquid dropped from pipes that lined the ceiling. She doesn’t remember that being there when she had been here last. 

The hallway was lit despite the lack of windows, a strange orange light illuminated the entire hallway, and the room several steps away. She could see papers scattered all through the floors, a reminder of what she’d once contributed to this enterprise. 

“Dipper?” Mabel called out, straining her ears for any noise. No one responded, leaving her to make her way further down the hallway. Her heels clicked against the wood floors, somehow still intact despite the black liquid that softened the edges of the wood. 

Her eyes fell to the projector at the edge of the room, playing old videos of a cartoon she’d long-since forgotten. Scenes that she’d helped make all those years ago. 

Of a cartoon character long forgotten. 

The room was eerily silent and she was beginning to think Dipper might not actually be here. She pulled the folded paper out of her suit jacket pocket, unfolding it to reread the letter once more. 

“Dearest sister,

I’m glad to hear things have been going well. I do congratulate you on your recent engagement, and I apologize for not being able to attend such a wondrous moment. 

Speaking of which, it has been a while since you’ve visited the old production studio. I’ve been working on something special. Perhaps you could come by sometime, for old times sake? 

Yours,  
Dipper”

She folded the paper again and tucked it back into her pocket, glancing around the worn room once more. She couldn’t imagine what her brother had been doing here by himself. It seemed there hadn’t been significant activity here in years. 

It only made her worry for her twin brother more. 

She hears movement then, a soft padding of footsteps in another room. She turns, and it stops. A chill runs through her blood as she carefully walks forward, quietly. Signs line the walls of the corners she walks around, her focus on the light behind a closed door down the hallway. She slowly makes her way closer, ensuring her heels don’t click loudly against the faded wood. When she reaches the door, she tries the knob, her heart racing when it doesn’t give.

She opens it slowly, relaxing when it was an old storage room. The room is filled with buckets of ink and papers. She turns the light off, turning around as she closed the door behind her. If a light was on, that surely meant her brother was around here somewhere. 

But something told her that he may not have been the only one remaining in the old warehouse. 

She could feel her magic swirl in her blood, building with her growing anxiety as she looked down a different hallway. This was all oddly familiar, but somehow still very different than she had remembered. Perhaps it was the black ink that seemed to stain the walls and floors below broken pipes. The posters that lined the walls seemed out of place and eerie - some crooked on the walls and others having odd markings over the characters. 

What exactly had her brother been working on down here? 

She’d talked to a few of their old coworkers years ago, knowing her brother had slowly become reclusive with her absence in the company. Some stated he had invested money in strange things - others stated he had lost his mind. In their exchanges letters, however, he always seemed fine. She wasn’t one to doubt her brother’s mental state, especially when he insisted he was fine, but she was beginning to regret not coming to visit her brother earlier. 

She walked down the hallway, Her eyes catching on an old tape recorder that rested on a dainty table by a different closet. She leaned down, pressing the play button curiously. It looked awfully familiar - something Dipper had insisted workers use to document their thoughts for future episodes. 

“I don’t know what’s up with him lately.” Was that Wendy? “Investing in all this...this ink. We don’t need this much ink. And going on about - what, bringing something to life? I thought it was figurative, because he’s always been passionate bout that character of his, but he’s been acting so weird ever since Mabel left. His episodes are becoming darker, too. Demonic almost. There’s been so many fights in the break rooms. We’re losing people. Left and right. Everyone’s leaving - I think it’s just making all of this worse.” 

Mabel frowned. Demonic? She hadn’t seen any of the final episodes of her brother’s work. She’d been so busy with her new job that she’d lost track of time. Her brother had always been successful, so she hadn’t worried. 

She sighed, turning to look at the soft animal next to the tape recorder. It was odd, a strange blue lion that couldn’t have been taller than the tape recorder itself. It was her brother’s favorite toy - something he treasured deeply since they were children. She hadn’t known where he’d gotten it, nor would he say, but it was his most prized possession. She grabbed it, deciding it may be useful later on when she found her brother. 

She turns to look at a different room that the hallway opens into - the old break room. Cheesy motivational posters litter the walls, an idea Wendy had when Dipper had been absent from the office that day. An April fools day prank that had remained throughout the year - and eventually even years later. A vending machine - no longer illuminated, rested on one side of the room, with scattered tables throughout the dim space. One thing she noticed, strangely, was that little ink had made it to this room. No pipes had burst, nor had any ink been tracked in. 

If her brother was here, he hadn’t once made his way into this room? 

At the exit, however, a cardboard cutout stared back at her. Dipper’s character stared back at her, it’s lifeless eyes somehow dark in nature. Its grin seemed malicious, leaving her weary.

It just continued to smile widely back at her.


End file.
